-M29. 671. Falmart. Sadera Imperial Palace-
Pina stared into her glass, filled with wine so deep in color it could have been mistaken for blood. Her mind drifted, consumed by reflection. The feast was scheduled for tomorrow. Preparations had been completed, yet none of them eased her thoughts.
She took a sip. A sharp, sour note blossomed across her tongue—unexpected, but not unpleasant.
"Feeling distracted, Princess?" A familiar voice stirred her from contemplation.
"Lord Raias." Pina greeted him with a thin smile. "Just indulging in a glass of Terran wine."
"May I join you?" the transhuman asked politely.
Pina rose from her seat, walked to her private drawer, and retrieved a delicate glass. Its surface was adorned with intricate carvings of flowers and leaves, forming a crown-like motif around its rim.
"Handcrafted?" Raias inquired. Even without the assistance of his augmented mind, he could discern authentic craftsmanship. Its elegance lay not in flawlessness, but in imperfection—proof of genuine human touch.
"Indeed," she replied softly. "Commissioned by my mother. The finest artisan in the realm made it."
"There must be a story behind it."
His voice dropped, tone measured, and his gaze turned fully upon her. Even with his distant demeanor, the gesture carried weight. Her eyes flickered—betraying vulnerability despite her composed appearance.
"It was a gift. Commissioned for my name day." Her fingers traced the etched patterns on the glass. Along the base, a short inscription had been engraved.
"'To remind me of my daughter,' she said."
She placed the glass down gently and poured crimson wine into it. Then, with a small but deliberate motion, she offered it to Raias.
"Would you toast with me, my lord?"
Raias chuckled quietly. "With pleasure."
She filled her own glass and raised it, pausing as she looked into the swirling red depths. Then she extended her arm, her gesture graceful and composed.
"To the glorious future," she said, a subtle but regal smile on her lips. It was small, but it carried the weight of a lifetime. A sovereign smile born of burdens and resolve.
"To the glorious future." He raised his glass and tapped hers. Together, they drank.
The flavor was unmistakable. Raias recognized it immediately—the delicate interplay of sweetness and acidity, the richness of aroma.
"A Macragge vintage. I didn't expect such effort from you, Princess," Raias said, nostalgia coloring his tone.
"I heard it was among the best. I merely followed where the truth led me," she replied with a teasing smile.
"I can respect that," he answered.
Pina studied him quietly. Despite his carefully measured tone and concealed expressions, she could sense the weight he carried. His mask remained, but the heaviness lingered behind his words.
She shifted the conversation.
"How are the preparations?"
"All is on schedule. After tomorrow's assembly with the full Prometheus personnel, I will receive my orders." Raias's reply was curt, effectively closing the current topic.
Yet Pina, raised in courtly circles, knew better than to let silence win. Diplomacy demanded dialogue.
"I've heard the Imperium will operate two embassies as part of our initiative."
She turned her gaze toward the window, where two imposing structures rose—testaments to a civilization far beyond Falmart. One was modest, discreet—built for formal diplomacy between the Japanese, the Imperium, and the Falmartian powers. It was off-limits to the general public.
The other, a silver monument to Imperial grandeur, stood as a cultural embassy—an open temple of knowledge and awe. It served as a bridge between worlds, a place where Falmartians could witness the splendor of Imperial civilization. Whispers and rumors rippled across the city: awe, curiosity, fear, reverence. Many among the nobility debated its implications; commoners spoke in hushed tones of miracles and curses.
Her father, in the end, had begrudgingly ceded several acres of his holdings to the Imperium.
A Blank's stare, she knew, could silence dissent better than any threat.
"Your assumptions are well-founded, Princess," Raias said. "The cultural embassy has already attracted several noble houses. Most seek gold and riches—easy to offer."
He paused, taking another sip.
"But not all are driven by greed. Yesterday, dozens of commoners and even slaves came, drawn not by promises of wealth but by curiosity—curiosity about the Imperium's amenities… and its Truth."
"Additional pawns for our legitimization among the Falmartians, I assume," Pina concluded, her eyes returning to meet the transhuman's.
"Which will make the next phase of integration proceed swiftly and without resistance," Raias added, scoffing lightly. "I only hope your brother plays his part correctly."
"If you're asking about his performance," Pina said with a dry smile, "I'd wager my entire status as Primum Praesidium."
The jest earned a hollow chuckle from Raias.
"What of Tyuule?" he asked, shifting the topic. At that, Pina paused—her hum was low, thoughtful. A frown soon followed.
"From what I've gathered, both the poison and her agents are in position." Her voice remained level, but Raias could sense the strain behind the calm. The steel was forced—drawn and held unnaturally firm.
"Your father will be fine, my lady," Raias said reassuringly, locking eyes with her.
"I know... but I can't shake the feeling." Her voice cracked ever so slightly. The iron in her gaze trembled. But then, like a fire reignited from dying embers, her will returned—unshaken and steady, granted to her by the Emperor Himself. "Even if he survives... I gambled with his life."
Raias stared at the young woman. A memory stirred—a flicker of another time. A lost boy sitting in the audience chamber of his father's court. There, the lesson was made clear: morality must sometimes be cast aside, sacrificed at the altar of something greater.
For better or worse.
"Sometimes, we are forced to make impossible choices," Raias said softly. "Either embrace cruelty... or ensure the outcome offers hope."
"That was my purpose when I stood before the Emperor," Pina replied without hesitation, her voice steady, purposeful.
"I've read the casualty estimates for this civil war," she continued. "Thousands will be the minimum... assuming my brother doesn't make a fool of himself. His first act will be to denounce me as a foreign puppet, to press his claim before the court of public fury. If only he understood the manifest destiny of the Imperium…"
A fanatic born of desperation. Yet, molded by fate to remain a mere man.
She sighed, her breath steadying her thoughts. The fire behind her eyes dimmed into cool embers.
Placing her glass gently on the table, she pulled out a dataslate.
"My lord, how do you assess the war's trajectory?"
"According to official projections, or by my own estimation?"
"I'd rather hear it from your experience," Pina said, her smile faint but sincere. Her eyes, however, remained fixed and unyielding.
"Twenty legions," Raias answered plainly. "If the rebellion in the northern provinces holds long enough to delay their deployment, six legions will be cut off."
"And the cultural embassy's efforts among the abhuman species?"
"The seeds have taken root. Our agents have made contact with several tribal leaders and dissident factions. Zorzal will face riots across multiple regions. Once that begins, your task will be simple: rally their leaders under your banner. Swear their fealty to the new order."
Pina exhaled slowly, comprehending the depth of his words. She thought of Augustus, the founder of Sadera—an Emperor immortalized in every noble's education. A paragon of power and rhetoric. A man who balanced mercy with ruthlessness.
To lead meant embracing both.
"So... a few months to win the war. A few years to integrate the population," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. It aligned with the Imperium's own Strategos projections—but she had hoped for faster progress. This war should never have happened. But history, she had learned, was no longer hers to command. It was now guided by forces she couldn't begin to comprehend.
An assassination attempt on Zorzal had been considered. A clean end. But—
"Still entertaining thoughts of assassinating your brother?" Raias asked, breaking her trance.
"Yes... With the resources at our disposal, it could be done subtly," she admitted. Her voice trembled, eyes falling to his armored boots.
"You have no resources to investigate it," Raias cut in sharply. "But we do. And our judiciary protocols will never allow it."
"But... if the Emperor has taken interest in this world—" Pina pressed, her voice tinged with quiet desperation, "—would he not act to help us?"
Raias didn't answer.
He simply looked at her. And the silence was louder than words.
"Even though the Emperor possesses absolute veto across all Imperial bureaucracies, this policy remains untouched by even His will," Raias said with a slow exhale. His eyes fell to the ground, the silence stretching as he weighed the gravity of his next words.
"It stems from a failure—a grievous miscalculation made during the era of the Thousand Empires." His voice grew more somber, almost reverent. "The archives speak of a world—forgotten by time and rediscovered by colonists. They acted swiftly: assimilation, acclamation, integration. It succeeded, for a time. But like a tower built upon shallow foundations, the structure collapsed."
He stepped closer to the princess, his armored form casting a looming shadow across her candle-lit chamber.
"Rebellion was inevitable. The colonists lacked both the understanding of the culture and the patience to guide it properly. The result was ruin. Entire planetary systems followed, falling into chaos. The Imperium, despite its unfathomable reach and ancient wisdom... repeated this error, a thousand years ago. Localized to a sub-sector, yes, but the lesson remains carved in blood."
The weight of the past settled into the room like dust, heavy and suffocating. Pina's breath caught. She stared downward, her mind racing to grasp the implications. Then slowly, her gaze rose to meet his again—eyes wide with realization, then narrowing into grim understanding.
"If we assassinate Zorzal now," she murmured, voice trembling with clarity, "we trigger a power vacuum too early. The nobility will fracture. Dozens of minor claimants will rise... chaos will reign."
Raias inclined his head. "Precisely. The entire scenario has been orchestrated to ensure the power vacuum coalesces around one man. A lightning rod for instability."
Pina's eyes widened further. Her mind raced ahead.
"A man reckless enough to challenge the Imperium. A fool the war-hungry senators can rally behind. A sacrificial king."
"Once consolidated," Raias continued with a nod, "the opposition can be eradicated in one decisive stroke."
Pina sighed, her body slumping back into the chair behind her. She had envisioned a plan—simple in its elegance, noble in its intention. But now she understood. This was not simply about preserving the Empire. It was about reshaping it entirely. A slow, surgical removal of rot.
"For the Empire I claim to protect... for the people I vowed to save." Her voice faltered slightly, then steadied again. "A simple plan... and yet it carries the weight of history."
"Rest, Princess," Raias said gently. "You will need your strength tomorrow."
"I know what I did was right," she whispered. "But perhaps... I still have much to learn."
Her tone teetered on the edge of exhaustion—measured, yet unmistakably human. Raias reached for the wine bottle and lifted it in silent offering.
"One last toast?"
Pina looked up and allowed herself a tired smile. "Yes... and thank you, Lord Raias."
"The honor is mine, Princess," he said, pouring a crimson stream into her handcrafted glass. As he stepped back, she raised the cup and drank deeply—without hesitation.
"Not a word, my lord," she said with a dry note as she paused before draining the glass entirely.
Raias gave a small chuckle. "Fair enough. But a reminder—chaos begins at dawn. A sharp mind is your greatest weapon, my lady."
He poured wine into his own glass.
"And you, Lord Raias?" she asked, a spark of curiosity behind her fading eyes. "How do you remain so composed?"
"Transhuman capability," he replied plainly.
She grunted at the answer, a note of envy thinly veiled.
Turning to the window, Pina gazed upon the full moon hanging above the capital—white, tinged with pale gold. It cast its silent blessing over the streets and spires of Sadera. A city poised unknowingly upon the cusp of civil war.
"Tomorrow, this city may be stained with the blood of brothers and sisters. Is this truly the price of my submission?" Her voice was numb, hollow—stripped of all sentiment.
Raias stood in the silence for a moment, letting her words linger in the air before answering.
"No," he said at last. "It is not the price of submission, Princess... but the cost of ascension. The Imperium was built upon blood, steel, and unwavering resilience. All ambition requires sacrifice."
His voice echoed, rich and heavy, filling the chamber with conviction that chilled her spine.
"Then let it be war," she said finally, eyes steady as steel. "But know this, Raias: I will not allow my people to fall into ruin. If the price of salvation is fire… then I shall walk through it."
"And you shall not walk alone," he said, finishing his wine. "We are the Imperium's power, and your shield."